


Alistair - Bhelen

by TheBearMuse



Series: Avalon Aeducan [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:25:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBearMuse/pseuds/TheBearMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair Theirin helps Avalon Aeducan decide who to make Orzammar's king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alistair - Bhelen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaseyChu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyChu/gifts).



> (Honorarily) part of my two word prompt series of drabbles. Prompted by CaseyChu. Full prompt: write about a female Aeducan who romanced Alistair and who knows Bhelen is the better choice but can’t bring herself to crown him, and her conversation with Alistair making her realize that he would make a good king. (Note: I cheated a bit, since Avalon romanced Zevran.)

It was far too quiet in the Deep Roads. Unnaturally so. It felt like the Chantry. Alistair Theirin felt like shouting at the top of his lungs to break the heavy tension in the air. The small party had recently cleared these caverns of darkspawn, so a surprise attack was unlikely. Still, he could not bring himself to do it, not under the circumstances.

The only sounds were the faint scuffing of boots and the quiet murmurs being exchanged by his fellow Warden and the Antivan assassin. It was good that Avalon was talking again. She had spoken little after learning the origin of broodmothers and fallen into complete silence after destroying the Anvil of the Void. Alistair just wished that she had chosen to break her self-imposed quiet with someone other than Zevran. Even Lancelot, her mabari, would have been a better choice. He was a good listener and wasn't trying to get into her armor - not that the elf needed to try at this point.

Alistair shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. Maker, he was getting to be as bad as Zevran. He did not want to be thinking about his best friend's....private areas. His ears reddened and he quickly cast about for another train of thought. Alistair's brow furrowed as he realized he had called Avalon his best friend. He supposed she was, though they had not known each other long. The rest of the Wardens had died at Ostagar, so there was little competition. Still, Alistair mused, even under more normal circumstances, they would have gotten along. Whether they would have grown as close so quickly, however, the Maker only knew.

Raised voices broke into his thoughts. Alistair glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Avalon stomping toward him, her armor clinking angrily with every step. He slowed his pace slightly to let her catch up to him. The fiery-haired dwarf matched his pace, seething with rage. Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head insisting that it was a bad idea, Alistair asked lightly, "Trouble in paradise?"

Avalon made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "He wants me to put _Bhelen_ on the throne! That murdering piece of nug-ridden scum!"

Much as Alistair wished that insult was meant for Zevran, he knew Avalon was referring to her younger brother. It was Bhelen's actions that had bound Avalon to the Wardens in the first place. The youngest Aeducan had framed Avalon for killing their older brother Trian, and she was sentenced to death by darkspawn in the Deep Roads. Their father died of grief not long after learning of Avalon's innocence. She would not have survived had she not found Duncan and become a Grey Warden. Naturally, this was a touchy subject for her.

Alistair resisted the urge to brush away the sweat beading on his brow as he tried to choose the words that would not earn him a bruised kneecap. "Didn't you tell your dear brother that you were going to do just that?"

Evidently those were not the right ones, as Avalon's green eyes flashed angrily and bored daggers through him. "That was the whole point! I get him to trust his sweet, patient, _naive_ older sister again, then bury the knife in his back when he least expects it! He's just lucky the knife wouldn't be literal." Avalon clenched her jaw shut as she tried to contain her anger.

"The choice does seem obvious when you put it that way," Alistair ventured cautiously. "Why would anyone want a known snake on the throne?"

"Even my father didn't! He himself chose Lord Harrowmont over Bhelen after he found out he'd been tricked." Avalon paused to rub her forehead under her half helm. "But Zev didn't like Harrowmont from the beginning. He said he was weak because he was too scared to face possible assassins."

Alistair made a face. "And here I thought avoiding assassins was generally considered a good idea."

"Of course it is. But how can he lead our people if he's too scared to walk among them?" Avalon frowned. "That's what Zevran was saying," she added quickly. "In Antiva, the weak politicians don't last very long."

"And Orzammar isn't much different."

"No, it isn't."

Avalon bit her lip and tried to turn away from him, but stopped when Alistair awkwardly rested his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you're not weak. You would have made a great queen."

A pained look crossed his friend's face. "I...maybe. I don't know anymore. I never wanted...even though Trian was an ass."

"I know," he assured her. Unfortunately, this was a subject he could relate to. "I for one am glad Orzammar won't be your problem after we leave."

"Except the laws about surface dwarves. Bhelen and I always agreed that it made more business sense to have better relations with the surfacers." Avalon let out a forced laugh. "Now that I am one, I can see how life would be better if Bodhan and Sandal, Gorim, and even Oghren could come home every now and then. Not that they would, but they could if they wanted to."

"And Harrowmont won't do that?"

She shook her head. "He's my father's man."

Alistair furrowed his brow as the full implications of the situation dawned on him. "So you could make some of the changes you would have as a ruler, but only if you put your murderer brother on the throne."

"Yes," Avalon replied bitterly.

"Would he make a good king? Ignoring that he killed his way there."

Alistair braced himself for Avalon's ire, but her eyes remained coolly fixed on a point far ahead of them in the darkness. "We were close once, you know," she said almost wistfully. "Long before he had an agenda to make me think we were. Trian didn't want to be seen with us. Mother was gone, Father was busy running Orzammar, and we were kept away from the noble children, so all we had was each other."

She trailed off, lost in thought. The only sounds were the echoes of their footfalls. Alistair was still trying to think of a gentle way to break the silence when Avalon continued abruptly, speaking quickly as the words poured out of someplace deep inside her. "We didn't understand how succession worked then, so we came up with grand plans for Orzammar once the three of us took the throne. The way Bhelen and I figured it, if we agreed on what we wanted to do, we could always outvote Trian."

"And did you?"

"Well, we never got to find out exactly, since Orzammar can only have one ruler....or none and a bickering assembly, but we didn't know that back then. However, we did seem to agree on most things."

"I too would be in favor of the extra desserts policy," Alistair quipped, then neatly sidestepped Avalon's swat.

"Always thinking with your stomach!" she sighed up at him, her exasperation only half serious. "You're right, though," Avalon admitted. "Our grand plans didn't include Orzammar's main problems. Not at first. But in later years, we talked about the surface dwarves and the casteless and how they didn't seem any different than us. Plus it infuriated Trian that we didn't agree with him." She chuckled - for the first time in a long time, Alistair noted. "And Bhelen seems to have stuck with our progressive ideas, at least judging by what we heard in the Diamond Quarter."

"So if it wasn't for the whole murdered-your-brother-and-exiled-you-from-Orzammar thing, he'd be the better king?"

Alistair regretted saying that as the smile fell from Avalon's face. "Don't forget the caused-our-father-to-die-of-grief part." She sighed. "But yes, aside from all that, he would be a better leader, much as I hate to say it."

"At least he's out of family to kill, right?"

Avalon laughed bitterly. "Except me, but I'm no longer a threat to him." She met his eyes, looking defeated. "I just don't want to see him get rewarded for destroying our family."

Alistair frowned. He did not much like the options either, and yet... "At least you got a new family." That earned him half a smile and a skeptical look. "Yes, it's just me at the moment, but we'll rebuild the Wardens once this is all over."

"And our other traveling companions are more than just allies," Avalon reminded him. "They're friends as well."

"And lovers." Zevran broke into the conversation with his usual smug smile. Alistair would have punched it right off his face if it wouldn't have further ruined the moment.

Avalon laughed the way she only did around the elf. "Just the one, thanks. Oghren better not have been telling tales while he was drunk again."

Zevran gasped in mock horror. "Perish the thought! I should have to cut out his tongue while he sleeps and that would be very messy all around."

Alistair knew he had to say something quickly before he lost the opportunity. They might not have another chance to talk before Orzammar. "So what are you going to do?"

Zevran immediately flew into a lengthy description of the protections he intended to set up around Avalon's tent. But Avalon knew that the question had been meant for her, and Alistair stooped down to hear her reply.

"I intend to do what is best for my people," she murmured. "Even if I'd rather slash his throat and lead the darkspawn to him myself." He nodded approval and started to straighten up when he felt Avalon tap his arm. "Thank you, Alistair," she added in a whisper. They exchanged smiles and Avalon turned her attentions back to Zevran, taking his hand in hers.

Alistair smirked to himself, noting that the elf hadn't missed a beat. A loud bark interrupted his reverie and the bastard prince leaned back down to pat Lancelot on the head. "That wasn't so bad, was it, boy?" The mabari wagged his tail happily in agreement. "Maybe I can do this. You think I'd do all right?" Lancelot barked again and licked his hand enthusiastically. He'd take that as a yes.


End file.
